More to the point, I want to ask: Do you believe it’s OK to download music for free, without giving anything to the artist?

This is not a new discussion or a new issue – it’s one that’s been happening for more than a decade.

As music sales have moved from brick-and-mortar stores and physical music platforms like CDs to digital files, so has the ability to access MP3s and music files online. Napster was the first platform to encourage music trading, but even without it around, a thousand others have popped up in its wake.

And the concept of “owning” a piece of music vs. having access to it on a smartphone or computer is an increasingly gray area, thanks to new platforms like Spotify, which uses a mixture of music files and its own radio station.

I guess my debate is more of a moral one: why do so many people think it’s perfectly OK to take something without paying for it?

One argument that’s always put forth is that all record companies are evil behemoths and won’t miss the money. Yes, many record companies past and present have only a tenuous connection to the artistic side of the process, if they have one at all. Many labels have mishandled artists or mismanaged their money or made decisions that were good for business but bad for art. No doubt about that.

But if a record company is not paid for the product that it distributed, I can guarantee it won’t be their general ledger that takes a hit. The artist will. And that’s likely why artists are now consistently saying they make no money whatsoever on an album. Touring is their sole way to make money from the music they create and play.

The second argument is more troublesome to me, and the argument is essentially this: I’m [fill in the blank: unemployed, underemployed, poor] and can’t afford to buy this music, so I’ll just download it.

But that’s never made sense to me. The inability to pay for an item does not entitle you to have it for free. The fact that people think that it does just reeks of entitlement. (To be blunt, for many of the people I’ve heard this argument from, it’s also a serious case of white privilege and veiled racism.)

When people loot during a crisis, there’s almost universal condemnation of that action. And it is morally wrong. It’s often an act perpetrated by people who are poor and who may be looting for the basics of life to survive.

Downloading music and not paying for it? Is digital looting.

Is my own conscience clear? I feel that it is. I pay for files on iTunes. I think there’s been maybe two or three times that I’ve downloaded a file; in all those cases, it was a “leaked track” by one of my favorite artists. I knew the moment it became available I was buying the entire album.

For a few older albums, I “ripped” the album from a physical CD into my iTunes library. I bought those albums several times over (on vinyl and cassette) so I know that I’ve paid for the music.

And I still make mixtapes, so to speak (on CD now). So I do share songs with friends. But (a) I’ve paid for the song/album and (b) if I share it, it’s not going to be shared into infinity with thousands of users. And (c) I’ve introduced people to music which in many cases spurred them to buy the entire album and/or other music by the same artist.

Maybe it’s just me entering the hey-you-kids-get-off-of-my-lawn phase, but it really troubles me that so many people see no issue with stealing music.

Because no matter how many ways we slice it, my final thought always comes back to this: How would you feel if you worked for a week, or two weeks, or whatever your pay cycle is….

….and on payday, the end users of your company’s product came to your office/store/widget factory and said, “Hey, we’re taking your paycheck. We appreciate your work, but don’t think you should be paid for it. Thanks!”

I’m guessing mass rioting would occur. So if it’s not ethical if someone does it to you, why would it be ethical to take the value (perceived or monetary) of someone else’s work and assume it as your property?

I’ve been exploring the music of Arthur Russell over the last few months. I first heard of him when I heard a cover of his song “Get Around To It” on a solo album by Tracey Thorn, the voice of Everything But The Girl. A few months later, I heard his version and found some of his music on iTunes.

Russell was an unconventional singer/songwriter, with an unusual voice. During his early career he wrote several disco songs. “Tell You” was a song he wrote as part of a disco collaboration, Loose Joints.

In Russell’s music and his approach, I see (and hear) parallels to musicians and songwriters like Radiohead and Andrew Bird, especially in some of his later music – layers of sound and atmosphere that are catchy, and yet don’t exist within the boundaries of a three-and-a-half minute pop song. One of my favorites is “Make 1, 2.”

Russell was apparently a legend or sorts in New York – a closely guarded man who, when seen in public, was often listening to his own music so he could rework and tweak it. He may have been deep into disco music, but he was also a trained classical musician and tried to merge those worlds (much as Bird now does with rock/pop, violin and whistling).

Russell died in 1992 of AIDS, and it’s been in just the last few years that his work has been rediscovered. There’s a documentary of his life and work, Wild Combination, that I’m hoping to see soon. This is a trailer for the film:

The music is so intriguing and quirky and alive to me. And there’s something compelling about his life story, as well. There’s something very Beethoven-esque about music being both Russell’s joy as well as the thing that made him slightly mad.

Cable news network anchor? Poopy diapers? Who can tell...

Of course, six billion or so human beings are going to have conflict, and war, and disagreements. That’s to be expected.

What I’m talking about is the conversations we’ve been having in this country for the last fifteen to twenty years, especially the ones that have been broadcast in the last decade, and the narrative of what we see and hear and read on TV, on the radio and in our newspapers.

I’ve been around long enough to remember when it was different. And I don’t think it’s simply a case of misty watercolor memories that I’m remembering a time when media dialogue wasn’t so contentious or so dangerous. A lot has changed since then – multiple 24 hour news organizations, social media that allows anonymous conversations….and little of it has improved the quality of the dialogue.

Lately, it’s been UNBEARABLE. I can’t even watch a full hour of a news program without switching to something – ANYTHING – else. Reading comments on an online post? Forget about it. Blood pressure through the ROOF. Some nights I can’t manage anything more provocative than a repeat of The Waltons.

This is a bad thing, folks: I’m a writer and a journalist. Trying to avoid conflict is sort of like a scientist saying they won’t work with hydrogen or oxygen.

My main issue? It all feels so pointless. No one is discussing issues. No one is looking for solutions. Very few people want to make a nuanced, fact-supported argument. About ANYTHING.

I don’t need someone to pat me on the head and agree with me. But it would be nice if we had real arguments. Arguments in the academic sense of the word: I have a point of view, and have proof or supporting documentation to further prove my point. (Spoiler alert: Name calling and labels aren’t arguments.)

I think most people know (or could guess) my political affiliations, but both “sides” are guilty of contributing to the conflict. So much of the discussion has become a PR game and a screaming match. And the best way to put positive spin on yourself is to demonize the opposition.

And it’s impacted the generation that follows us. It’s become a church of absolutism. Check any YouTube video for comments and you’ll see what I mean. Either you agree that Taylor Swift is the most talented person that ever drew breath and walked on terra firma or you must DIE IN A FIRE.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, because as I dig deeper into my writing and pursuing a career as a writer and journalist, I want to be very, very clear about what my intentions and boundaries are. At some point, I’ll need that clarity for an organization I’ll work for. For right now, I need it for myself.

I think that some media outlets are partly to blame for this. Whether it’s diminishing circulation, shrinking budgets or the blurring of lines between information and entertainment, we don’t always see all the beats of a story anymore. The lazy approach to reporting is now find a point of view in a story……then look for the polar opposite. And once that’s in place, ramp up the conflict.

There aren’t two sides to a story. There may be hundreds, if not thousands. And while news writers and editors have to shape a story into a manageable narrative, it can be done without losing sight of the nuances of the who, what, when, where, why and how.

I fail miserably when I try to follow someone else’s template, or write in another narrative voice. I know I may have to write outside of my comfort zone, but I don’t know if I’m the guy that needs to show you 10 ways to make your cat look like Lady Gaga.

My best work has been telling people’s stories – particular the stories of people who don’t always get to be front page news, or fit neatly or easily into any demographic. And those are the stories I want to tell.

It’s going to be hard to keep that in mind when I’m in the middle of the screaming, name-calling and anger. And I know many of us have reasons to be angry – many people have lost a lot in the last few years. I hope that the work I do can bring the volume down to a low roar, instead of ramping it up to the Spinal Tap eleven.

Of course, I’m probably being really unrealistic about my hopes and expectations. After all, 2012 *is* an election year….And if this post has you angry and your blood pressure up, well, then here’s your tonic.

Good night, John boy….

But 2011 was a year like no other for me.

At the risk of invoking a cliché (and being a plagarist) few words fit this year for me like the opening of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way. 

For me, it was a year of high highs and low lows. It was a year where it truly, deeply sucked to be a grown-up.

A few great things happened. My partner and I bought our first home. Being a home owner is not without stress, and the search for a home was incredibly stressful. But there’s a security in owning a home that I haven’t experienced before.

I returned to college this year. My complete and utter wipeout during the first go-round at university has always haunted me, and while I’ve managed to carve out a successful career without a degree, the whole experience felt completely unfinished.

This fall was one of the most intensely stressful periods in my life, but it was incredibly redemptive when I met with success in my classes.

I continued my genealogy research, and made some really compelling discoveries along the way. But the worst of times of this year was losing several family members. It was definitely a year of loss for our family tree, as we lost an aunt and an uncle.

And, unthinkably, my sister took her own life in April.

I haven’t written about my sister since I initially wrote about her death. Losing her, and the events that followed, made for some of the ugliest moments I’ve ever experienced.

The story of what led my sister to this point, and to this irrevocable decision, continues to be more and more complicated, with more points of view than Rashomon. And at the end of the day, my sister is no longer with us. Part of me wants to let go completely. And part of me thinks writing about her will honor her memory.

And speaking of clichés - like the Dickens I invoked at the beginning of this post – the loss of my dear, sweet sister and the effect it had on all of us revealed to me the truth of many clichés.

Value the family and the people in your life, and let them know how much they mean to you.

Having a positive point of view – or positive people in your life – makes a difference. 

Value the time you’re here on Earth, and don’t let fear prevent you from experiencing life and embracing new adventures. 

And maybe that’s the lesson I will take away from 2011. Maybe the conventional wisdoms and definitions I’ve lived by – of what a cliché is, of what a grown-up is – should be discarded and left to rot.

I’m still processing what’s happened this year, but what I can tell you is that I am out of a long corporate cubicle slumber. I may not be ecstatically happy or completely content at this moment. But I am alive, awake and aware. And that is a good place to start 2012.

There’s multiple aspects to this story. One that I’ve been very interested in piecing together, especially from the perspective of a journalism student, are the reactions that people have had to this scandal, especially in Pennsylvania, my home state. They’re not the reactions one would initially expect.

I know this area; I grew up halfway between Pittsburgh and Johnstown, two of the most intensely dedicated football towns anywhere in the country. (There’s a reason All The Right Moves was filmed in Johnstown.)

In Western Pennsylvania, football is a religion. And if football is a religion, Joe Paterno was God. Or, at minimum, St. Peter.

Which leads me to the thing I find very, very curious: the cloak of innocence, the automatic benefit of the doubt, that’s granted to players and coaches when they get into legal trouble.

I wrote about this very topic a year ago in this blog. At that time, it was Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger under the microscope for allegedly raping a girl in a bar. Michael Vick and OJ Simpson are two other notable cases where the reactions to the alleged crime, or perceptions about the accused, was tempered in some eyes by their athletic achievements.

The equation seems to be as follows: “[Insert suspect's name here] is a great [coach/player/quarterback] so ergo, they must be innocent of [insert criminal act/inappropriate event here].” I don’t understand how that becomes the first response to an accusations, especially ones as heinous and horrifying as these ones.

I don’t condone the idiotic riots that happened after Paterno’s firing, but in some ways, I understand the kindling that made them catch fire. Football is a religion, after all. And PSU supporters were just told there is no God.

The conflicting tsunami of emotions that students and members of the community have felt aren’t in any way tidy, or structured. And I suppose it’s human nature that people can be both horrified and angry at someone and still respect or admire or love them; these are undoubtedly feelings that many are processing about Paterno.

The whole mess is beyond hideous, and I’m angry at the at the school, at Coach Paterno and at the rioters. More than anything or anyone, I’m furious at Sandusky and at a loss to understand why justice against him has taken so long.

But I still find it curious how, as with religion, some people have unshakeable faith in the people they follow. No matter how much evidence comes to light, no matter how bad or unflattering the facts are, it happens. I’m seeing it everywhere now: poor Joe Paterno. How can his career end this way? (Huh? How about the victims?)

Faith and facts have been struggling for thousands of years; I don’t suppose reconciling the two will be any simpler now.

What’s been happening? Well, we did end up buying a new home. And I’m back in school as the oldest college freshman EVER. Just call me “Jerri Blank.”

I’m happy to be back in school. But at the risk of being a buzz kill, I want to repost an entry from last year, when there were a rash of teen suicides. We’ve had the same happen this fall, for the same reasons.

Check out that old entry and my personal experience with that particular journey. And understand the costs of that kind of violence goes far beyond some kid getting teased at school. I’m happy to be doing what I’m doing and being back in a learning environment. But I wouldn’t wish that kind of delay, or hiatus, on another kid.

My friend and fellow writer Lana Nieves invited me to participate in the Blogging for Access day. Lana is part of the Independent Living Resource Center in San Francisco, an organization that works to advocate for people with disabilities. 

Today’s focus is on access for disabled people…..and my admission that, like many people, it’s a concept I hadn’t thought much about. 

Admit it – when you enter or leave a building, do you take a close look at the entry or exit doors? The door handles? Have you taken a good, long look at your office? The restrooms in the building? The pathway to your car or bike? What about the mass transit bus that stops right outside your door? The seats at the ball field?

Of course not. We take the infrastructure we live in, the conveniences we use, for granted. They are made for us, after all.

Most of us.

For people who are differently abled, who are living with a disability, there’s no taking those items for granted. Pathways must be planned. Complications must be considered.

I don’t think I’m a heartless guy, but I admit: I really hadn’t thought about this fact much before. I have long been aware of the American with Disabilities Act, and understand why it’s important. And certainly, there have been many improvements in providing access for people with disabilities. More accessible sidewalks, offices, and restrooms. More accessible, interactive public transit.

I remembered being a student at Edinboro University of Pennsylvania, a school that has one of the leading programs in the country for students with disabilities. Edinboro had a great approach even those many years ago when I was an undergrad. There was no separate program for disabled students (as some institutions had) and students lived in the mainstream world. I had several friends and classmates who were wheelchair users. They lived in the same dorms (albeit on specially designated floors designed for their needs). We ate the same lunch, attended the same parties and suffered through the same hangovers!

In the years since, however, I have to admit I just hadn’t thought much about access.

But it’s been on my mind in recent months. Someone in my family had a stroke in the last few years, and it was an eye opening experience to hear about his access issues. Having ADA access in public buildings is one thing, but how do you mandate ADA access for homes? It’s a challenge where you have no wheelchair ramp to get inside, and a difficult to access bathroom. Talk about taking things for granted!

I recently spent several weeks traveling, and on several occasions stayed in an ADA designated room. Sometimes the differences were noticeable. I heard the hotel guests next door complaining about their ADA room, and how the light switches were all out of reach, how oddly shaped the shower was, and how low the dressers were.

I thought: You’re lucky. You can go home and have regular access, and never have to think about this again. 

I respect the ILRC and the work they’re doing. We need to advocate for access for our disabled brothers and sisters, and continue to improve awareness, access and design. ADA compliance shouldn’t be a special fact needing an asterisk. It should be second nature.

I love the idea of owning a home. I thought that the process would be fun, or at minimum, a bit of an adventure.

You know what I’ve discovered? I’ve found that if our government really wanted to torment terrorists, spies and criminals at Guantanamo, water boarding is not necessary. They could just send them on a search for real estate instead. It will break them and shatter the stability of their mental health in no time.

Now, before I complain further, let me say this: I’m very, very lucky. My partner and I are healthy. We have saved enough to be thinking about this seriously. We both have decent credit scores. We are in a place where a lot of people ain’t. I am very grateful for that. So grateful, I feel guilty for complaining.

But some parts of the process are just crazy.

Working with a real estate company seems to be the same no matter where you go. They get the most basic information about what you want (bedroom and bathrooms) and then bombard you with emails of the same properties. We seem to get the newest or most inexperienced agent every time, which is NOT who you want to sell you a house in this economy.

We’ve worked with a few people where we explained some of the specific things we wanted…and they just kept sending us listings that were nothing like what we’d been seeking. The search engines many of these companies use are missing a LOT of fields. None seem to have a search for square footage. No listings for finishes/design type.

And the money! It’s supposed to be a recession, and I’ve heard nothing but news about how low home prices have gone, and how much lower home values are now than they were two years ago.

But I think those lower sale prices must have skipped Chicago entirely. I’m astonished at what people want for small, cramped, poorly lit, badly decorated condos that are less than 1500 square feet. It’s insane – half a million dollars in some cases!

Maybe I’m being unrealistic. It’s Chicago, after all.

I’ve been thinking a lot about when my mom and dad bought the house I grew up in. It was in 1965, and the buying price was $15,000. Dad put $500 down and did another few hundred dollars in work inside. It was a great house, with 3 bedrooms and almost a half acre of land. When he sold it last year, it garnered not quite ten times the original cost.

That’s in western Pennsylvania, where housing costs are very low. But in much of the rest of the country, you can’t buy even a small place without spending at least $300,000 these days. And that just seems insane to me.

I’m a city boy, so we’re looking mostly at condos and townhouses. But a little part of me thinks about the home I grew up in, and wonders if we shouldn’t be looking to buy not only the living space, but the land underneath.

I wonder if we are making the right decision in buying a house. From theorists like Professor Richard Florida to money gurus like Suze Orman, I’ve heard over and over that renting, not buying, makes more sense in the long run in this new economy, in these new days.

It’s a lot of money to gamble. And that’s before the mad dash to find the place we love, the place we can live in and call ours.

It’s a financial consideration, perhaps, but it’s also an emotional one. Having a home feels like the top rung on the ladder of security. So do we follow our heads or our hearts? I’m not sure where this will end up.

They have provided hours of entertainment (and sometimes, refuge) for me. And I love books and information – learning, reading and growing.

So I found it very sad recently when I heard that the main library in Gary, Indiana is closing. It’s sad on multiple levels.

After all, Gary is an area that’s struggling in a way that’s unparalleled in this country (outside of perhaps Detroit). They’ve lost over 50% of their residents and a huge chunk of available work. For them to lose their main library? Is knocking a man when he’s down.

I can understand why they have to – the money simply isn’t there, and Indiana’s current state government is yanking nearly all remaining funding. And you have to see Gary to understand the level of decay – in some sections of town, it looks positively post-apocalyptic.

But I want to tell you why having a library matters. It’s a part of a community’s identity. It’s a source of pride.

That’s not just empty lecturing. I can tell you, in a very genuine way, that libraries can make a difference. I can say that about the Gary Public Library. It was where I found some incredibly helpful information.

I’ve been doing my family tree research for about a year now. And I’d been researching my grandparents’ lives and tracing their family – their parents (my great grandparents) and their siblings. Between my maternal grandmother and my paternal grandfather, there were 25 siblings, so it’s been a big project!

I’d figured out where most of my gram’s siblings had ended up, and even connected with some of their descendants – my mom’s cousins and their children, from my generation.

But one great-aunt remained mysterious. I knew little about her. My grandmother and mom are both gone, so I couldn’t ask them, and my aunt was helpful, but I still had some gaps in information. None of her information was coming up online.

Online records indicated she was living in California, and I happened to be in California this past winter, so I checked in the local library for her obituary. No luck.

What we did determine, from the obituaries of my great-grandmother and great-grandfather, was that at the time of their deaths, she’d been living in Gary.

So it was decided that on our next trip to Michigan City, we’d stop in Gary. And one rainy, bleary day this past winter, we did.

The library was dark and clearly had seen better days. The staff was incredibly helpful – they’d verified ahead of time that they held the newspaper from 1981 that I’d wanted to check. We went to the Indiana Room – a bit chaotic and disorganized, but filled with information. The appropriate microfilm cartridge was located.

I only had the month, not the day. So I searched an entire month’s film. And there, on the very last day, was my great aunt. She’d gone by her middle name (I’d been looking for Myrtle, but she’d been known as Ann) but it was definitely her.

It may not seem like a big deal, but it was to me. I’d found a huge branch of the family tree less than an hour from where I lived. I learned that great-aunt Ann had 10 children, including a multi-award winning high school football coach in Indiana. I was able to solve the mystery of a few photos in our family photo collection with no names or only nicknames written.

And best of all, I’ve connected with several members of my family and gotten to know them. And that’s a really nice feeling to bring that full circle. I think my mom, my grandma, and especially my great grandparents would be proud.

And of course, none of that would have been possible without the library – a library that is closing at years’ end.

For many of us, libraries have always been there. But in this evolving information age, we can’t assume they still will be.

Don’t take your local library for granted. Support them with your money* or your time. Let your local and state governments know how important they are.

You may not need a library every day. But invest in it and all of the information it holds. You never know when you’ll need it, or what door it will open.

*NOTE: I did donate money to the Gary Library for their help on my project. 

The obituary’s first line read: “Arguably, the best female reporter/writer in the history of Chicago journalism……”  And my first reaction was…..best female? Why the restriction? Why isn’t she just one of the best reporters?

The paper’s online ombudsman is on Twitter (it was his tweet that brought the obit to my attention) so I Tweeted a quick comment about my reaction. And his response was even more intriguing to me: “Give her the “female” as a badge of honor….one more hurdle to overcome in that era.”

I don’t disagree with him in principle. I know he and the author of the piece are great at their jobs and meant no disrespect. I just wondering if that’s an honor, or a limiting label – then, or now.

Do we still need to measure gender? Or for that matter, any other label? Do we only compare Asians to other Asians? How about LGBT people? Or differently abled people?

I don’t know how objective or important my opinion is on this one – I am a guy, after all, and have never had my gender limit the possibilities of what I could achieve in a job. In my career, I’ve worked almost exclusively for women, and with one Cruella de Vil-esque exception, they were all great managers and great leaders. The women I’ve worked for have had more consensus-based, flexible, results oriented management styles, and they were always more aware of a need for life/work balance.

If I think about it beyond that, however, I’d realize that all of those women reported to male managers or executives. The glass ceiling may be less obvious, but it seems to still be in place.

So….I’m thinking it IS still a matter of importance how we describe people – and how we describe their accomplishments.

Am I being too sensitive? I’m curious to know your thoughts.